​In reference to making art, I recently heard David Hockney say that, “craftsmanship is a must.”
From the Renaissance to the Abstract Expressionists art students began their apprenticeship by learning the craft of their chosen media.

“We can teach craft, it’s the poetry you cannot teach.” Hockney goes on to say, 
“Now we teach poetry and forget craft.” 

There is enough truth in that statement to make one stop and think. 

A Chinese philosopher proclaimed art is a matter of,
“the Hand, the Eye, and the Heart”. 
Many artists new and experienced alike, seem to shift back and forth from working primarily with the hand, the eye and the heart, rarely giving equal measure to all three.

When I look at the latest paintings in watercolor society shows I am more than impressed with the polished technique exhibited: skills of the hand and the eye. 
What I most thirst for, though, is to see the reason behind all the technical skills:
more heart and soul. 

I know  how challenging this is as I fight for a balance of ideas, feeling and form in every painting I do.  I have come to realize that in making art, usually one aspect (the hand, or eye or heart) is primary and the other aspects might be  missing in the process or have minimal influence.   

I think this is well worth giving  some thought...ask yourself...
Which of these do you primarily work with; the hand, the eye or the heart?
Do you start a painting aware which is going to primarily direct the process?
Which are you most comfortable working from: the Hand, the Eye or the Heart?
Do you resist letting one or another take the lead?
When you are most satisfied with the results of your work, what is the ratio of hand/eye/heart?
If you get stuck or a piece seems to fail, does it rely too much on one aspect at the expense of the others?
What if you tried switching it up...?

I know I shift between as I am working, but I do try to find a balance. Or at least a workable combination of hand/eye/heart.
I  believe when all three aspects work in a sort of equanimity the resulting  artwork has a stronger presence.
You know when you see it: the piece of artwork engages intellectually, moves you emotionally and the craft impresses or intrigues you.
It just works.

      
            Where is the silence inside the sound?
      
            Where is the sound around the silence?
      
            What is the space between snowflakes?

When I began taking swim lessons last February, the concept of actually swimming was a complete unknown to me.

Because of past failures, traumas and a lifelong storehouse of fear, any 'swimming' skill I had was self taught and very fragile. So I was starting from scratch. From Zero.
Fast forward to now, nine months, a lot of lessons and dedicated practice later, and I am at the point where I feel like I am at a plateau. (Amazing, right? To get so 'good' as to be bored? Take that in!! Wow!)
I have worked to a certain level of competence, and now I am not sure how to progress forward, how to get better, raise the bar and tackle the next level of challenge.
As luck would have it, Kathy, my swim guru, was at the pool Tuesday,  when I was there  for my swim.
I told her my concerns, and she gave me some new drills to work on new skills, to move me forward. 

So today, when I was swimming,  I drilled with a pull buoy and hand paddles...
In other words... In the Big Picture... New Tools, unfamiliar tools, different muscles being engaged, focus on new patterns of movement.
In short: awkward, clumsy, frustrating. 
But also, enlightening, liberating and exciting!

​As tough as it was using the new tools, doing the drills, I could immediately feel the potential to move to another level of skill. Because of my prior practice, the next level will come faster. I will strengthen areas of my practice...which will strengthen my oveall skill.

Isn't this always how it is when you move to a new level of exploration in any discipline?
Be it, swimming, making art, meditation, relationships, writing, 

You will start from knowing nothing, build your skills, then reach a level of competence, of confidence and comfort. Or stagnation and boredom... Then what? 
Do you crave challenge? Or do you just keep doing the same old, same old, until you can repeat it in your sleep, safe in the knowledge that you have reached a comfortable level of skill. You can  can swim in the shallow end, as long as your feet can touch the bottom..

Any time you push to the next level of achievement you have to let go of the edge of the pool. You have to go into deeper water, all over again. Become a beginner...let go of certainty. It takes a little dose of courage, and the faith that you can do this.

While I was swimming today, I was so grateful that I have found an activity that challenges me to be a total beginner. At this age, we think we know so much! To be humbled by one's ignorance, to be motivated by a childlike desire and an open heart and mind, really is a GIFT!

I try to keep this awareness when making art. The more I know, the more I realize how much I don't know!! Instead of seeing this as a failure, I see it as an opportunity. A fresh challenge.
There is  so much more to discover.

Whenever one moves to unfamiliar territory in a  art- be it new materials, techniques or content-there will be growing pains. Clumsiness. Frustration. New muscles being challenged.
If one can keep the humility of the beginner, the Know Nothing, everything is a fresh discovery.

There is no failure as a beginner, only fresh starts.
The expert has an investment in certainty, maintaining the known, the repeatable, quantifiable outcome.

I choose to always be a beginner, to let go of certainty, to try new things, to be clumsy,  frustrated, to fail and start again...to grow and learn... and start all over.
I'd rather make a blazing, risky mess, than repeat a dull, uninspired formula.

So sad and limiting to be an expert, to be certain, to outgrow the glorious potential and wild openness and uncertainty of a beginner!
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